"Marie-Anne! Alma!" he shouted, as he dashed past the door of the house, "all of you! To me, in the tower!"He was up in the lantern when they came running in, full of curiosity, excited, asking twenty questions at once.Nataline climbed up the ladder and put her head through the trap-door.
"What is it?" she panted."What has hap--""Go down," answered her father, "go down all at once.Wait for me.
I am coming.I will explain."
The explanation was not altogether lucid and scientific.There were some bad words mixed up with it.
Baptiste was still hot with anger and the unsatisfied desire to whip somebody, he did not know whom, for something, he did not know what.
But angry as he was, he was still sane enough to hold his mind hard and close to the main point.The crank must be adjusted; the machine must be ready to turn before dark.While he worked he hastily made the situation clear to his listeners.
That crank must be turned by hand, round and round all night, not too slow, not too fast.The dial on the machine must mark time with the clock on the wall.The light must flash once every minute until daybreak.He would do as much of the labour as he could, but the wife and the two older girls must help him.Nataline could go to bed.
At this Nataline's short upper lip trembled.She rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, and began to weep silently.
"What is the matter with you?" said her mother, "bad child, have you fear to sleep alone? A big girl like you!""No," she sobbed, "I have no fear, but I want some of the fun.""Fun!" growled her father."What fun? NOM D'UN CHIEN! She calls this fun!" He looked at her for a moment, as she stood there, half defiant, half despondent, with her red mouth quivering and her big brown eyes sparkling fire; then he burst into a hearty laugh.
"Come here, my little wild-cat," he said, drawing her to him and kissing her; "you are a good girl after all.I suppose you think this light is part yours, eh?"The girl nodded.
"B'EN! You shall have your share, fun and all.You shall make the tea for us and bring us something to eat.Perhaps when Alma and 'Zilda fatigue themselves they will permit a few turns of the crank to you.Are you content? Run now and boil the kettle."It was a very long night.No matter how easily a handle turns, after a certain number of revolutions there is a stiffness about it.
The stiffness is not in the handle, but in the hand that pushes it.
Round and round, evenly, steadily, minute after minute, hour after hour, shoving out, drawing in, circle after circle, no swerving, no stopping, no varying the motion, turn after turn--fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven--what's the use of counting? Watch the dial; go to sleep--no! for God's sake, no sleep! But how hard it is to keep awake! How heavy the arm grows, how stiffly the muscles move, how the will creaks and groans.BATISCAN! It is not easy for a human being to become part of a machine.
Fortin himself took the longest spell at the crank, of course.He went at his work with a rigid courage.His red-hot anger had cooled down into a shape that was like a bar of forged steel.He meant to make that light revolve if it killed him to do it.He was the captain of a company that had run into an ambuscade.He was going to fight his way through if he had to fight alone.
The wife and the two older girls followed him blindly and bravely, in the habit of sheer obedience.They did not quite understand the meaning of the task, the honour of victory, the shame of defeat.
But Fortin said it must be done, and he knew best.So they took their places in turn, as he grew weary, and kept the light flashing.
And Nataline--well, there is no way of describing what Nataline did, except to say that she played the fife.
She felt the contest just as her father did, not as deeply, perhaps, but in the same spirit.She went into the fight with darkness like a little soldier.And she played the fife.
When she came up from the kitchen with the smoking pail of tea, she rapped on the door and called out to know whether the Windigo was at home to-night.
She ran in and out of the place like a squirrel.She looked up at the light and laughed.Then she ran in and reported."He winks,"she said, "old one-eye winks beautifully.Keep him going.My turn now!"She refused to be put off with a shorter spell than the other girls.
"No," she cried, "I can do it as well as you.You think you are so much older.Well, what of that? The light is part mine; father said so.Let me turn.va-t-en."When the first glimmer of the little day came shivering along the eastern horizon, Nataline was at the crank.The mother and the two older girls were half asleep.Baptiste stepped out to look at the sky."Come," he cried, returning."We can stop now, it is growing gray in the east, almost morning.""But not yet," said Nataline; "we must wait for the first red.Afew more turns.Let's finish it up with a song."She shook her head and piped up the refrain of the old Canadian chanson:
"En roulant ma boule-le roulant En roulant ma bou-le."And to that cheerful music the first night's battle was carried through to victory.
The next day Fortin spent two hours in trying to repair the clockwork.It was of no use.The broken part was indispensable and could not be replaced.
At noon he went over to the mainland to tell of the disaster, and perhaps to find out if any hostile hand was responsible for it.He found out nothing.Every one denied all knowledge of the accident.
Perhaps there was a flaw in the wheel; perhaps it had broken itself.
